The Little Match Girl – A Fractured Tale
by sleepingrefuge
Summary: This is a fractured fairy tale based on the original fairy tale, called "The Little Match Girl". Warning: The original is rather dark, and I only made it darker for this.


It was dreadfully cold. A lone figure walked along, darting into the shadows at the slightest of sounds. New Year's Eve had arrived, and most were inside homes and celebrating with friends as they watched ball drop in Times Square. She was the only one outside this cold and snowy night, dressed in an oversized smock that tied in the back, and the restraints still around her wrists and ankles.

No shoes were to be found, she had not gotten the chance to grab any in her escape while the orderlies went through their shift change. The lack of shoes did not phase the little girl though, and she continued on her trip to find her home.

She walked along while clutching in her hand her one joy in life, this box of matches was her only friend. She struck one and in the burst of light a smile shown on her face. Fire provided excitement and warmth, and became a living, consuming creature when let loose and she would always let it loose.

A face appeared in the flames, her mother's face. Her mother had been the first to notice the little girl's obsession with watching things burn, though at first it was passed off as a phase she was going through. Soon the problem proved far worse than anyone had anticipated. The little girl's pace quickened as she was reminded of her mother and her family.

No one had loved her for as she was, and no one had loved her fire as she had. They told her she was a pyromaniac and a danger to everyone. The little girl would eventually kill people they were told, and her mother had not wanted a problem child in her household, disrupting her perfect life in her perfect neighborhood.

She needed to find her family, needed to show them they were wrong about fire. She glanced down longingly at the box in her hands, before shaking her head and reminding herself she needed to find her family. With this she continued on, her feet turning blue with the cold and her teeth chattering, until she arrived at the home she was looking for. It was lit up, and the people laughed and smiled as they celebrated on this cold winter night.

The little girl walked up to the door, and finding it unlocked, walked in and headed towards the room that had been hers. These people _needed_ to see the glory of fire, and in a fireplace she could see a face telling her she needed to show them.

She struck another match, and frowned as she saw the image of her family coming to visit her in the asylum. They talked of their new home and their new life, all without her (though this was not spoken of). There was also talk of their hope the little girl was "getting better", even though they were the ones who there was clearly something wrong with. How could they not see the love and glory present in flames.

Fire was her life and her friend. Fire was the family she never had, and it never disappointed her. It was free when she could not be, and wild when she was forced to be restrained. She had proved this to the people of the asylum when she set the place aflame as she left. Never again would she be locked up in that horrible place her family had abandoned her to.

She continued to walk, looking for the perfect place to plan her final proof to her family and now their friends. While at the asylum, the little girl had dreamed of this day and this moment. She had dreamed of coming home, to her family's open arms and they would say, "Oh, we were wrong. How foolish we were to doubt you!" She could see them all smiling and herself being welcomed back and taken out of that wretched place. They would love her like the fire did.

However, before she used the gasoline she had found in the garage, she struck one more match, and a smirk lit up her face when a familiar face appeared in the flames. Here was the one who had showed her the truth behind the flames.

"Do it. Show them the lies they've been taught. Prove to them you're not crazy and not to be locked up." The face had a soothing voice that seemed to echo into the depths of her mind, with such sincerity there was no doubt in the little girl's mind that it was telling the truth. It had never lied to her before, through the burning down of the little girl's first home, or through the burning down of the asylum, and it was not lying to her now.

She opened the can of gasoline and started liberally pouring it around her family's new house, finally stopping in the room that had been promised for when she returned home. In this room, she poured and stopped in the middle of the room, surveying her work. She had trapped the family and friends in one room with gasoline on all sides, and had already started the fire there. Now, all that was left was this one last fire. She struck the one last match, and with a careless toss started the flames.

Too late she realized she had trapped herself in the burning house, and further trapped herself in the bedroom with gasoline all around her. As the flames raised around her, she could see the arms of her mother beckoning to her. She smiled, and with a shout of "Mother!" rushed into the arms with a laugh. In those flames, the little girl finally found the love and warmth she had been looking for in all the fires she set.


End file.
